


Down to bone

by Slant



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/F, Gideon is mostly meat and bad decisions, Harrow has a bad time with feelings, Harrow has a bad time with not-skeletons, Not as porny as I expected, Nudity, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Pre-coital cuddling, and without porn, sex comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26581327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slant/pseuds/Slant
Summary: Gideon was horribly aware that Harrowhark had opinions re: how sexy sacramental skull patterns were.
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

When Gideon emerged from the sonic, Harrow was reclining naked on a divan made out of skeletal human arms. Of course she was. She wore the sacramental paint of the shattered skull, because although she was rebel and apostate, although she had freed the Body and killed the Emperor Undying, she was still Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Harrow had clearly chosen the shattered skull as being the sexiest pattern. Gideon was horribly aware that Harrowhark had opinions re: how sexy sacramental skull patterns were.  
What she actually did was smirk, "Nice make-up. It'll look great smeared over my thighs."  
Gideon had spent a lot of extremely personally rewarding time considering precisely how much of a mess she could make of Harrowhark's paint; what she had not considered was that the wonderful, murderous glare on Harrow's pointy little face made the breath catch in her throat and her knees weak. She was pretty sure she managed to keep her swagger on as she knelt down at the side of the divan and pecked Harrow carefully on her chapped lips, tasting grease.  
"I hate to break it to you skull lord, but sex is messy and organic." She idly smoothed her hand down over Harrow's bony shoulder, feeling the deep hollow above her collarbone.  
"There may be fluids," she added in a secretive half-whisper. Under the paint, Harrow's face froze.  
"Too much?" Gideon stilled her hand and sat back, "shit sorry. We can d."  
"I want to do this," snapped Harrow, "but it's a lot."  
"I could take a cold bath and lie very still for you if that would help?" said Gideon, because apparently she couldn't help saying the worst possible thing.  
Harrow just laughed, tension that had been there since before Gideon entered the room draining out of her frame. She gestured at the bed. "I imported five kilos of Oosik especially for this."  
At Gideon's blank expression, she expanded " _os priapi_ ," and then with emphasis, "Penis Bone. I was really expecting that to appeal to your sense of humour."  
Gideon gave her a soft look unlike anything she had experienced before. Harrow had made a plan just to be nice to her. A ridiculous, bone-centric plan, obviously.   
"Thanks. I love it," she smiled, "it's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. Can I hug you?"  
They embraced, and Harrow burned against Gideon's skin, one pointy shoulder jabbing her right in the boob, her torso so tiny that Gideon's hands naturally wrapped around to the far side of her ribs.  
"This is nice," said Harrow, leaning her head into the crook of Gideon's neck. "Abrupt nudity might have been a bad starting point though. Don't do that again."  
Gideon started rubbing the heel of her hand up and down Harowhark's spine, feeling the little knobbles that Harrow would have known the proper term for.  
"I shall follow where you lead, glorious messiah of bones, and not just so I can stare at your butt."  
Harrow pulled away, leaving smears of paint on Gideon's neck and shoulder and laid on her stomach. The phalanges adjusted effortlessly to her contours "Keep caressing me Gideon, and you can look all you like."  
Burning checks safely buried in supportive phalanges and paint, she added "You can do more than look."  
Gideon looked. Her beloved was a tiny bundle of bones and spite, all sharp angles and thin skin stretched over deep hollows. Gideon stroked her, starting on the top of her trapezius and working slowly down, ghosting over jutting shoulder blades and the delicate points of her spine, then sweeping up along her ribs to cycle round again. 


	2. Chapter 2

"I said 'Grab my ass', Gideon", grated Harrowhark.  
"That's not what you said. Anyhow I'm getting to it, I'm just give you time to get used to touching not-bones."  
"I am completely at peace with your enormous meat-mittens. Now wrap you phalanges around my gluteus. Give a good squeeze."  
Gideon smiled and started carding her fingers through Harrow's hair "You really do have all the indulgent sensuality of a stick, you know that? It's okay if no one touches anyone's bits. We're not on a schedule. There's no deadline that will slip."  
Harrow rolled over on her back to snap up at Gideon " _I_ have a plan! Why didn't you have a plan? This is why you never get anything done."  
Gideon felt a great wave of fondness. She was sure that Harrow's plan was 1) bone-divan, nudity, the sexiest sacramental face paint 2) ? 3) winning at sex 4) praised as Gideon's caliginous doxy. To which: haha sucker, she was going to do that _anyway_. Gideon smirked again and lightly traced a nail around one of Harrow's (pale, pointy) nipples.   
"That's good. Keep dong that. And I'm not a stick," said Harrow, with hardly a caught breath, stuttering at the unfamiliar sensation almost completely hidden beneath demanding waspishness.   
"It's okay, Osselet. You're my evil stick. How do you feel about a bit more ?"   
Harrow nodded, lips pressed tightly together. What Gideon actually expected to make Harrow uncomfortable was the warmth and softness of fingers and thumbs. Really, what she needed was a cool bone-arm, like Ianthe. She froze, palm spread over Harrow's delicate-but-indestructible ribs.  
"Are _you_ okay, Gideon?"  
Gideon said nothing intelligible, caught between present desire, horror of thinking of Ianthe during sex with Harrow, and fear of upsetting Harrow by saying anything about thinking about Ianthe during sex with Harrow.  
"Gideon, talk to me," demanded Harrowhark, "I can't fix it if you don't say."  
"I just thought that you'd be more comfortable if I was less," she flexed, as a sort of general indication of her extreme physicality, "Maybe all bones?"  
Harrow grabbed her, pokey little fingers failing to reach around her forearm, and dragged her wrist to her chest.   
"I might not know what I'm doing, Gideon, but I know I want to do it with you."  
Gideon let out a breath. "I guess that makes sense. I mean, if I was the world's best pale sickly weirdo, I wouldn't want to be with some other, inferior, pale sickly weirdo."   
"And if I can cope with your over-inflated opinions about your biceps, I can cope with the muscles themselves."  
"I like that you're touching me back."  
Harrow looked down at her hand, still making indentations in Gideon's wrist. Beneath the paint, she looked suddenly lost.   
"Oh."  
"Maybe together?" asked Gideon.  
They tried for a bit, Harrow trailing uncertainly across Gideon's shoulders while Gideon palmed over her breasts and continued to tease gently at Harrow's nipples.   
"No" said Harrow abruptly, "I can't concentrate on not freaking out if I'm caressing you." She pushed hard and ineffectively on Gideon's sternum.  
"Stay there." She swung to a sitting position, legs either side of Gideon's waist, and carried on exploring her shoulders over the superior fibers of the trapezius.  
"What did I do? What am I meant to do?" asked Gideon, hands dangling awkwardly at her sides.  
"It's not you, it's anything that I'm not controlling in my space."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> V. proud of "Osselet" (small bone) as a genuine pet name for Harrowhark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which your author makes another attempt to make it sexy.

Harrowhark poked at Gideon some more, and there were a couple of moments that made her gasp, but Harrow was terribly nervous of moving her hands any lower, and eventually stopped out of awkward self-consciousness.   
"This isn't working for me, Griddle," she snapped "Isn't there meant to be overwhelming 'enjoyment'."   
Gideon smirked. Harrow saying "enjoyment" like it was technical jargon she'd just learned and wasn't sure she was using right was objectively hilarious.   
"Same. It's still pretty great being with you though. Curl up so I can hug you"  
Harrow did so, pulling Gideon's arm over her like a awkward beefy comforter. Gideon crawled on the divan after her.   
"So this is how it really happened" mumbled Harrow into Gideon's elbow.   
"Yeah," said Gideon. "Why, did you have some other ideas? I know I did."  
"I figured other people did this sort of thing so it must be easy so why bother think about it. That might have been an excuse not to think about it."  
"Yeah, the fact that you just said 'this sort of thing' rather than 'fuck' should have raised some concerns."  
"You're an ass. So what were your sordid fantasies like?"  
"They were great! I was all _flex_ and you were all 'Oh Gideon, your so hot and muscular please remove my billion layers of robes and bones and repression and make a woman of me. Get your thick, calloused fingers up inside me right now.' "  
"Gross. You really shouldn't learn about relationships from dirty mags."  
"Better than learning relationships from Anatomical Bone Studies."  
"True." Said Harrow. Gideon pulled her closer appreciatively.   
A pause. Harrow chewed her lips. Tried again.  
"I wouldn't mind hearing more of what you like. Just don't make me insipid."   
Gideon didn't answer for a moment. Long enough for Harrow to worry that she'd said something weird or terrible.  
"I always wanted to impress you, you know? Even back in Drearburh I planned on escaping to the Cohort and winning a bazillion medals just to show you that I was great and you didn't deserve me."  
"I'd only have seen your medals if you came back for burial."   
"Having done it, I'd like to admit that being dead so you have to admire me is a shitty idea. Plus you never fucking did admire me. You were either pissed off or in denial that I ever existed."  
"I _do_ admire you, Griddle. Also, while that is impossibly sweet in a messed up child sort of way, I wanted to hear about your erotic desires."  
"Is that a sort of bone? You know I don't know the names of all the fiddly little ones."  
"Tell me what you think of when you masturbate," said Harrow, irritably.   
Gideon grinned into her curls and kissed the top of her skull.   
"Oh Harrow, you're so malevolent and bad at dirty talk and you wear the sexiest sacramental skull paint: take me now!"

**Author's Note:**

> I read a bunch of Gideon/Harrow where Harrow isn't a pointy little goblin of a person and Gideon isn't a vast pile of biceps - characterization was spot on, but the physicality of them didn't work for me. Anyhow this is me failing to fix that. 
> 
> The first line I wrote was the "smeared over my thighs", which I thought was pretty hot, so I thought I was writing something horny. Then Harrow was kind of horrified by the non-bone parts of bodies, and everything else happened.
> 
> EDIT: apparently "spite goblin" is not original to me :)  
> https://twitter.com/pilpopilpo/status/1300132880170070021


End file.
